


You are my home, Simon Snow

by yellowfrngipane



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Blood Drinking, Drinking, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Miscommunication, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Shepard, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowfrngipane/pseuds/yellowfrngipane
Summary: In 2013, when Gemma T. Leslieʼs final book of the Simon Snow Series was ought to be put out, Cath tried herself to give answers to all of the questions still left unsaid and to elaborate her own final chapter for her hero.Flash forward to 2021, in a parallel universe, here I am trying myself to do what Cath wanted to. (Only, I am real and Rainbow Rowell is too.)Simon Snow, The Ex Chosen One, The Blue-Eyes-Bronze-Curls-Leather-Wings-Anxiety Boy, and his dead handsome boyfriend are coming back to England after their "trip" to America.Things have changed and stayed the exact same way they were in America, and now itʼs up to Simon, Baz and their friends (some new, some old) to sort it all out. Will The Ex Chosen One save the day, again? Will Baz’s quest for his identity lead to the hoped conclusion? What’s Shepard’s role in this? Can Agatha and Penny see their worth, in the end?There's only one way to set things clear: looking for the answers at Watford.
Relationships: Ginger & Agatha Wellbelove, Ginger/Agatha Wellbelove, Nicodemus Petty & Fiona Pitch, Nicodemus Petty/Fiona Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Shepard, Penelope Bunce/Shepard, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon reflect on things while coming back from the USA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

# BAZ

Simon Snow growls a lot. For example, he growls when Penny runs on the shore and shouts: ‘Baz, there’s trouble at Watford. We have to go—now!’

I am my mother’s son and may I be damned if Watford is in danger until I live. Which, in light of very recent information, may be forever.

‘What happened?’, I shout back.

She steps closer to us—we’re still lying in the sand and I have my hand on Simon’s. Now she speaks in a normal tone of voice: ‘My mum and I video called’.

‘That is so _you_ , Bunce! Making a video call in the middle of California, right where we don’t want to be found. And to your mother! That’s a genius idea’.

‘Baz, let me speak. I needed her advice on a problem that I’ve found out—about Shepard. I called her and when she picked up she was oh! so scared’.

‘Scared?’, Simon asks. He lifts his head and I contemplate his new haircut. He looks sharp as a knife—so gracious.

‘Yes, she thought we were dead or being held hostage somewhere. You know, they’ve tried to contact us non-stop since we got here, but we didn’t notice’.

Snow checks his phone and he realizes now that he hadn’t deactivated the aeroplane mode. ‘Shoot, I’m so sorry!’.

I get up and help Simon up, too. I brush some sand from my clothes and take his hand—holding hands in front of Penny, that seems so much more than anything we’ve had the last six months. ‘Come on, Bunce, you’ll tell us on the way. We need to go, now’.

‘She says there have been disappearances of mages all over England and some bodies have even been found, horribly disfigured. It’s like some sorts of sacrifices are happening’, Penny says, when we get back to Wellbelove’s flat. She and the Normal are all set, ready to go.

Snow growls again.

‘And yesterday, Mrs Possibelf was kidnapped from school. Some kids are missing, too. Imagine going to Watford and not knowing if you’ll be back by the end of the year...’

‘Dear God, not Mrs Possibelf!’, Snow exclaims. (He swears as Normals do, now, because he thinks he is one. We pretend not to notice, because we don’t want him to believe that.)

‘Yes, and the guards were all up! All sorts of protective incantations were spelled on the school’.

I inevitably think back to our times at Watford. We did use to go to Watford and did not know if we would be back by the end of the year. With the Humdrum, neither guard nor protective incantation could protect us.

‘They haven’t found one single clue yet—my mum is freaking out. The disappearances are so many, some mages have even left England. She says we need to get back there, at least to reassure the Coven that we’re alright’.

Simon never knew this or maybe he just chose to ignore it, but we’ve become popular as some kind of Golden Trio for the Coven. The three who took down the Mage (may he be damned forever). The three who took down the Humdrum. There’s even a prophecy, somewhere in the archives of Watford that speaks about us—no one believed it was about the Greatest Mage before we came and did what we had to.

It all clicked, when we saved the World of Mages.

Mrs Wellbelove once said to me my mum would’ve been proud, I recall while taking my luggage to the taxis Agatha called.

‘They looked for us in every corner of London, Baz. Oh, we should’ve left something, just in case...’, Penny is now saying when we’re in the first taxi. Wellbelove and the Normal are in the other cab.

Snow, wings spelled away for Crowley’s grace, is getting nervous and keeps drumming his fingers on my knee. He already seems on another cloud, as if the magic

‘What about the other kids? Who are they? Why would they kidnap them?’, he asks.

‘Nobody knows anything. I’m sorry, Simon, that’s all I’ve got for now. We have to get to my parents’ house as soon as possible, that’s what my mum would say if I asked other questions’.

The two of them sit quietly, after this. I wish I could ask: ‘And the Holes? What’s up there?’, but we never talk about the Holes near Simon anymore. Because, you know, his evil shadow opened them.

# SIMON

‘And the Holes? Is everything okay there? I mean, what if the Humdrum...’, I ask.

Baz turns to me and looks at me, shocked.

I’m not a child, I mean. We can talk about the Holes. And the Humdrum. And the Mage and the fact that I killed him or maybe Penny did and the fact all my life was fucked up that night and nothing went good ever since.

Okay, maybe we can’t really talk about it, but this was the most obvious question to ask in a situation like this. Has the magickal world even gone through any other menace, besides me and the Humdrum?

Penny shrugs. ‘My mum knows nothing’.

‘Okay, but, have they checked?’, I insist.

‘No holes opened up and the actual ones are as they were before we left. Fucking Micah! I came all the way here for him and now the entire magickal England is at risk!’

Baz echoes: ‘Yes, fucking Micah. I guess if it’s not the Humdrum, then nobody knows how to deal with whatever it is?’.

‘Nobody knew how to deal with the Humdrum in the first place’, I point out.

I didn’t, the Mage didn’t, the Coven didn’t, Professor Bunce didn’t.

Penny sighs. ‘I guess not. I don’t know, guys. It’s better if we just relax and rest now. It seems we won’t get much rest when we’re back’.

We’re back, she said. We and are and back. Like we were a team and now we’re just getting back at our job. Not like everything’s changed.

And changed again.

When she ran on the shore, Penny shouted: ‘Baz, there’s trouble at Watford’.

‘Baz’.

Baz puts his hand on mine, the one that’s been drumming on his knee. I keep my hand still. At least I’m not moving it away.

I wonder if this trip to America changed anything between him and me. I still wanted to break up with him, on the shore, and then Penny run in. I don’t really want to break up with him, but it felt like the right thing to do. I don’t know how it feels now—I was doing it just because I thought it would make things easier.

‘Things won’t get easier by running away from your problems, Simon’, my therapist used to say. ‘Course they won’t. I feel like I’m going to make things worse anyway, so I might as well not do anything. 

Anyway, we get to the San Diego Airport perfectly on time to get the next plane for Chicago. There, we will need to change flight.

Agatha said that California seemed the furthest place in the world to run away to from Watford. (I guess she meant it figuratively and I also guess she’s right.)

California has been hot and dry and not welcoming at all with us. We fought some vampire mafia in Las Vegas, we fought them again in the middle of the desert and Baz found a little blood-sucking friend, who was handsome and lovely _and_ owned a lot of buildings.

And betrayed us. I fear jealousy will be a problem, for me and Baz, in the future. I feel bad about this, because I know I’m not _enough_ for Baz, and I also know I’m holding onto him because I’m an egoist. I didn’t mean to be an egoist, but maybe that is why I keep postponing the moment when I’ll break up with him. That, and the fact that I love him, even though he doesn’t love me back. Maybe if I wasn’t so jealous and egoist, Baz wouldn’t look so hurt when he looks me in the eyes.

It felt like we were healing, during our road to Vegas, like this is an illusion we can actually believe in. I believed in it, for a second, just before we got to Vegas. But then... it all faded out, blurred in the cruelty of a world I didn’t ask to be born into. Magic is cruel. (Some) Vampires are cruel. 

All America wasn’t very kind to us, but at least it was beautiful. And it woke me up like a cold bucket showered right in my face. It felt invigorating, to flap my wings in blue skies and through green, red, and yellow hills. It felt like I was living again, like I was on the battlefield (the only place where I am useful, and I am good at something) again.

Now we’re leaving and I am scared Baz and I will not even be able to hold hands at home.

The first aeroplane is tiring and makes me sick. I feel like my back is asleep, like when you rest with your foot in the wrong position and it’s stiff afterwards.

We get to Chicago and Penny even refuses to look outside the window when we land. I murmur to Baz: ‘S’not like she will see Micah in the middle of the landing slide, huh?’

He smiles gently.

Shepard asks who Micah is. I tell him to shut up and that we will tell him when we get to London, far from Penny.

Baz murmurs to my ear, at an even lower voice than I used: ‘We shall not’.

I nod. I wish I could kiss him, but I only suffocate the chill through my spine. I love it when his mouth is near my face, but I’m scared of kissing. I’m scared of him, and what I might do if I were really free to be myself, at this point. If I weren’t so afraid of myself, what would I do to him? I’m already hurting him now, I mean, and he doesn’t deserve any of this.

Because I’m a horrible person. I think I will miss him, behind the Veil, when I’ll get the world rid of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are errors of any kind (English is not my native language), and if you enjoyed the reading. I wish you the best day!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang arrives in London. Agatha thinks about life before and after going to America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

# SIMON

I had a very long and restoring sleep, on the plane from Chicago. Now we’re almost in London—this pleases me, but it’s also scary.

I wake up feeling hungry and empty. I feel my mouth sore and dry. I recognize the feeling, but I don’t want to admit I do.

My back aches like it has never. I feel the void in the spot where my wings should be. I feel the void in my soul in the spot where my magic should be.

It’s always about magic, but it’s _really_ about magic now. It is like it is flickering, but not like when I blacked out—like when, for the first time, it came to me when I was ten.

It used to come back to me in the span of instants. It used to always be there, without exceptions. I miss it like it was my only reason to live. (It was.)

Baz is near me and he is sleeping, too—or maybe he is pretending to. He does that often, unplugging himself from reality but keeping himself alert. He never lets himself completely rest. I think he runs on caffeine, rage, and magic, at this point.

I miss my magic and he has plenty of it.

If the magic itself is at stake, as Penny said before in the car, maybe I’m the only one who can fight. I have nothing to lose, and warriors with nothing to lose are stronger.

Baz’s eyes open and he stares at me with a sweet smile. I feel my stomach tighten in a knot. ‘Good morning, Snow’.

‘Slept well?’

‘Are we home?’

He refers to the whole of England as ‘home’. It breaks my heart that he hasn’t enjoyed America. He did have fun with Lamb, though.

‘I think so. Look out of the window: we’re over London’.

His smile widens. ‘Good thing we’re here, I really need to refresh myself’.

Penny is animatedly talking with Shepard on the other line of seats. Agatha is right next to them, rolling her eyes more than enough.

‘How can you not know the capital of Spain!’

‘Do you know the capitals of all American States?’

‘I do! Maybe you don’t, since you don’t even know the capital of Spain’.

Shepard laughs and shrugs. I get what he’s doing and I don’t like it. I wonder if I should warn Penny, but maybe she’s got it under control, like everything else.

A metallic voice says we’re twenty minutes from landing through the speakers. Air flight attendees sit down to their places and Baz grabs the armrests.

He really hates flying, I think and I cover his hand with mine. It’s something I’ve learnt to do, recently, so it’s fine. A boy sitting next to Baz glances at us and I pretend not to notice.

‘I can’t wait to be home. I can’t wait to see my mum’, I hear Penny say.

Agatha whispers: ‘Me too’.

Baz slips his hand in his jeans’ pocket to make sure his wand is still here. He murmurs some voice exercises, the ones you do before an important battle. He did those in Chicago, too. (Not that I know which ones, since I never rehearsed before battles: I didn’t have the time, nor the magickal preparation.)

The aeroplane lands neatly. There’s no wind, only a bright sun.

Baz releases his breath, which he hadn’t realized he was holding. I smile encouragingly, but then I see the boy sitting next to him, I get afraid and I step back.

It’s always like this.

When we’re out of the airport, I inhale slowly, tasting the familiar pollution in my lungs. Baz is nervous. I guess he can’t wait to feed, so I try to get things going faster, so that he can go.

‘Guys, I need to stop at my place and have a shower. We can gather around later, can’t we?’, he says, indeed. Agatha is looking at me and him with a strange look on her face, like she’s wondering what species we are from.

‘I don’t know what your plans are, and when you are settled I would like to help, so call me when you need it, but I’m heading home, now’, Agatha chimes in.

‘Of course, Agatha, call when you get home safe’, Penny smiles. I like that she smiles like she’s got everything under control, because it makes me feel safe. But I also know how scared she must feel, with what she’s told us before setting off to Britain. She has so much to process from what’s happened in America, too, and I’m surely not helping. I want to ask her how she feels, but when I try to it’s like we’re no good at communicating, either. 

‘I think we should create a group chat to stay in touch’, Penny adds.

Agatha sounds sarcastic. ‘That’s a great idea. Let’s group chat and exchange GIFs with kittens and the location of Pokémons. Shall I send you my favourite nail tutorial on YouTube?’

Baz, Penny and I already have a group chat, but we almost never text there.

Shepard is enthusiastic. He has been enthusiastic for half the time we’ve spent together and the other half he was sleeping or asking inappropriate questions. Isn’t it tiring for him? ‘I’m okay with it! Should I give it to you, Penny?’

I start dictating my phone number for Agatha, but she brushes my attempt off, gently saying she already has it.

‘Of course you do’, Baz comments icily.

Agatha frowns, but says nothing and takes Penny’s shoulder in her hand. ‘Well, I’m going to go now. Text me your address, when you need me. See you’, she waves, and leaves towards the car rental service.

Baz takes Penny aside, leaving me and Shepard to calling a taxi. Shepard is annoyingly smiling at every black cab he sees, while I’m just counting the money we have left to see how far we can get from the airport before changing to public transport. I usually never take public transport, because of my wings. Penny spelled them away, though, and the spell seems to be holding.

Penny rejoins us. Baz is gone. ‘Baz has left us some money. We can get to Hounslow in a cab and then you can go to Kennington by bus. Is it alright? Will it be fine for you two?’

Shepard doesn’t look like he understands what she’s saying, so I nod for both. ‘Are you sure the spell won’t wear off?’

She smiles. ‘Don’t worry. Let’s go, Shepard’.

# AGATHA

The guy was so seduced by my flirting he left me one of the most beautiful cars he had in the garage. It smells like new plastic and recently treated leather. I usually enjoy new, expensive, pretty things but today is being unbelievably inebriated. It’s like I’ve waited the whole life, a whole ass life to be in control of this car. It’s like I’m a gazelle grown in captivity who is now taking the first jump in the savannah.

I don’t know how my parents will react, when I arrive there unexpectedly, as the weight I am for them. I didn’t even phone to tell them I was coming home. It was a sudden decision, and I think I’ve already changed my mind.

I miss my mum, even though she wasn’t always patient with my behavior. Can you blame her, though? I was the most unbearable child one could have. I used to be a rebel, but in such indolence, it was impossible not to hate me. My parents took care of me, however.

I was never happy, never content with what I had. I had magic and power and richness and a place in my world, and it wasn’t enough for me to feel satisfied.

My mum once said to me, “Agatha, you are eating too much and too fast. Slow down.” I wasn’t eating at all, at the time, so I looked at her with a questioning eye. She didn’t explain.

Now I get it. I was too hungry to listen to her, then. I got into so much trouble, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love my parents. And they kept loving me back. When I got into my car, on Christmas day 2015, I didn’t know where to go. I took myself and Lucy and drove to my Nana’s house, in Wales. That’s where they found me, when they looked for me. I was practicing horse-riding in her country house, and my mum got on a horse and came up beside me.

We had a long walk, afterward. She hugged me and let me cry on her shoulder. She asked me if I wanted to go back to school. I told her I didn’t, and she was sympathetic. It was her who booked the ticket to California. She was so scared about me staying in magickal England, especially when I made her think about how _much_ magic we breathe _every_ day. She said she didn’t understand why I hate magic, but she didn’t want me in danger. I told her about Lucy and California, and she packed my bags and drove me to London Heathrow and kissed me on both my cheeks and my forehead.

My dad was colder than her. He checked my health from head to toe and hugged me tightly. He asked me about Simon, about what happened at the Battle of Watford, about the Mage. I told him Simon and I had broken up, and he didn’t bother me with other questions. He didn’t look surprised or disappointed. He even hugged me again, but hasn’t talked to me ever since. I suspect he’s disappointed that I ruined everything and ran away. He’s still in contact with Simon, though. I hope Simon told him that I’m a good person.

Simon and Baz are together now. They were holding hands, before separating at the airport.

I’ve waited my whole life behind the wrong people. I’ve longed for Simon even before knowing him. My parents used to say when the magickal atmosphere lit up for him the first time, I felt that and started giggling. (My mother would point out that giggling is silly, when she told this story.) They told this to Simon before even knowing his favorite color – yellow – and his shoe size.

When I finally got to Simon, he was the most powerful, brilliant, interesting, and amusing boy I had ever met. He kissed like he was a god. For a while, I thought I had everything if I was at his side.

I got a crush for Baz, then – I can’t even remember why. Every sharp look I got from him meant something – I now wonder if it _really_ was what I thought or...

Maybe it was not. I was a target the whole time, for the wrong reasons. No, no!, that’s not true. Simon did care about me, for a while. Screw me, I had the most precious boy in the world at my side, and I didn’t love him _enough_. ( _How_ did I love him? I still don’t understand this part of my life.) But Penny says he still asks about me now.

He and Baz are together. That’s an eventuality I never considered, not even in my worst nightmares.

Baz looks at him like Penny used to at Micah. She told me they broke up, in America. America! The land of opportunities! America, the land of heartbreak.

America surely did something to me, but I don’t know what. When I got there, I was traumatized and didn’t even graduate. My dad asked the school to give me an honorary diploma, for merits I don’t have, so that I could devote it to enrolling in veterinary medicine school. (Nevertheless, Baz seems to have survived excellently in six more months at that school.) (I wonder what Simon did in that period.)

Back to Baz and Simon – Baz has no eyes but for Simon, while Simon has his head in the clouds. I’ve loved them both, and it hurts to see that they both love each other.

America has been harsh on me, after the first months. It felt so revitalizing, at first, I thought I would live forever. I thought I could finally be what I’ve always wanted.

I started smoking because it seemed to mean burning away the scars and the flaws of my past. I now smoke because addictions have a name that means what it means. Ginger didn’t like it when I smoked. She says it endangers your equilibrium. For whatever it’s worth, I stopped smoking in front of her.

I wonder if she will miss me. I don’t know how long I will stay here in England. I told myself I was just stopping by to take my wand back, but what if the wand leads to something leads to a long stay?

I took little luggage, I will have to go back to pack everything, eventually. Maybe I’ll ask Ginger to do that for me.

Ginger is always enthusiastic about something. If I told her about magic, she wouldn’t run away horrified like my parents prophesized when I wondered if I could tell Minty, my Normal friend, what school I went to.

I never completed my instruction at Watford. I don’t feel anything missing. The others had trouble, too. Only Baz completed the year with excellent grades.

He succeeds in everything he does. Vampirism, for instance – I’ve never met a vampire who is less of a vampire than Baz, and due to my recent acquaintances, I must’ve met many. He was on top of the class, people fear and revere him like he’s some sort of Duke, and he got Simon Snow hanging on his arm.

He looks at him as thirsty as a seagull that waits for you to throw some bread crumbs. I looked at them a lot, on our flights. They seem to be at a dead-end, but this doesn’t discourage their fierceness. Baz still walks like everything was his or due to him. Simon is broken inside – I understood it from the way he eats – but he’s got his head up when he’s near Baz and Penny.

Penny gives him strength and he gives strength to Baz. Where will Penny and I get the strength we need?

It’s a question that doesn’t find an answer. For me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are errors of any kind (English is not my native language), and if you enjoyed the reading. I wish you the best day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard takes a tour of Penny and Simon's flat. Simon misses Baz and his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

# SHEPARD

Simon is not happy with being in London. I don’t know why, since I saw Baz and Penny practically yearning for London, when we were in San Diego.

I’m taking the entire luggage (three suitcases) up the stairs, while Simon jumps two staircases at once and nervously scans every floor with his gaze.

I am sorry that he is not happy. When Baz went to his car, his eyes darkened. He is worried – I can see it. 

When we finally arrive on the _last fucking floor,_ suitcases and sweat included. “Where do I put them?,” I ask.

Simon decides to have me make a tour of the flat, after I’ve placed the suitcases in the small, neat living with a big blue sofa and other patterned furniture. “You’re very welcome to the smallest flat in London! You will feel terrible. I hope you enjoy the stay,” he proclaims, with his funny cicerone voice.

They have flowered wallpaper and wooden floors (how can a place look so messy but so lively at the same time?). Simon is looking at me strangely. 

“Everything alright?,” I ask.

He nods. “Penny hasn’t told me where you will stay. I guess you can have my bedroom. It’s this way,” he gestures and takes me to a small bedroom next to the bathroom door. There is a queen-size bed with the smallest bedside table I’ve ever seen and a thin wardrobe in front of it. On the side, there is a tiny desk and a drawer.

The room is a mess. There are so many things on the floor, on the bed, on the desk and drawer. As soon as Simon leaves it to me, after taking some clean clothes and his computer, I take my suitcase and spread it open on the bed. Over the desk, a bulletin board is overcrowded with things: timetables from university, football matches tickets, concert tickets, and birthday cards. I push aside some candy wrappers and I read some of the memo notes on the books on top of the desk. Tickets and notes all have past dates, and are at least four months old. A literature book is still open to a bookmarked page, “Epic poems and the seasons’ cycle”.

So this is what Penny meant, when she said Simon is a totally different person in America. Is he unhappy? Is he depressed? Is this what it’s about, with Baz and the sad gazes he sends over to him. Why don’t _they_ live together? Their relationship doesn’t seem totally fine to me.

“I’m making pasta for lunch. When you’re ready, come here and start laying the table”, Simon shouts from the kitchen.

I feel the tire on my body, because of the time zone. I wonder how’s Penny doing, at her parents’ house. She was anxious when she got down the taxi and we separated. I text her, to let her know we’ve arrived. Just got to the flat. It’s pretty ;-) Simon gave me his bedroom. Where will he sleep, anyway? I feel my mind working 80mph. There’s so much to discover, in this house.

I light the lamp on the side of the bed and take off my glasses. I count my money and open the little drawer of the minuscule nightstand. I was hoping to put my money and IDs in here, but there’s already a long, narrow wooden box inside. I try to take it out, but as soon as I touch the box my arm starts aching. The box bumps on the drawer’s edge and it falls on the floor, opening up.

Simon’s in the room in a second. “Hey, what’s happening, did you fall?”, he asks, before seeing what’s on the floor. His eyes are wide open, now, and he doesn’t seem pleased with what he’s seeing. There is a wooden wand, on the floor, wrapped up in tissue paper. It’s white like a bone (is it made from bone?), with a wooden handle. A small pearl is nearby, and a golden chain with a cross as a charm. I’m holding my burning arm, hoping the ache doesn’t get worse.

He’s really fast in taking the cross in his hand, looking at it with an indecipherable expression, and shoving it back into the wooden box. “You can’t touch my things just because I allowed you into my room, you know,” he says, but it seems like he’s talking to the wand more than to me.

He tries hesitantly taking the wand in his hand, but he pulls back without even touching it.

“Do you want me to take it for you?,” I ask, but I startle him with my voice so I shut up. He goes into the kitchen and comes back with a cotton tissue, which he’s more comfortable touching the wand with. He pushes the small, grey pearl into the tip of the wand and stores it away in the wooden box. My arm is already feeling better. I try pushing the pain aside and concentrate on the present.

“You know, it doesn’t work very well. The pearl is for protection. You can’t just separate your waste and thrash it into the bio-waste rubbish bin, you know.”

“So it’s yours?,” I ask. So he _is_ a mage. I knew it!

He has sad eyes and both sides of his mouth are downward. “Was. Never worked well, like me. It’s better that way. No questions about my magic.”

“Are you a religious person, then? What’s the cross for?”

“It’s a talisman. I used to wear it for Baz. I don’t need it anymore. Well, I never needed it. He hasn’t ever bitten anyone, but I didn’t know that back when we were at Watford.”

“So you were scared of him? And crosses are bad for vampires?”

“I knew he was a vampire, even though I couldn’t prove it. He was my roommate, and I was afraid he might do something to me, because his family doesn’t like me. It’s more complicated than that, of course, but I don’t want to talk about it. I started wearing the cross for a joke, but when he tried stealing my voice I took it seriously. I haven’t worn it for more than a year and a half, though.”

“So the legends about vampires are true? Crosses, and the sun and garlic?”

He chuckles. “Crosses and the sun bother him because he is a gay Englishman. Garlic would bother anyone, I think. I never eat it for its smell, either.” He starts stirring the pasta, which is almost ready.

“Why aren’t you living with Baz anymore? Is it because now you have proofs of his vampirism?”

“What?,” he exclaims. He laughs again. “No, it’s not because of that. Penny and I have always dreamt of living together for a while, after school. And we go to the same university, while Baz is in another. Plus, he’s moved in his aunt’s flat and she most certainly wouldn’t want me there.”

I follow his instructions in laying the table and sit down as soon as he is ready. He takes a cider can out of the fridge and opens it with a typical soda sound.

“Enjoy your meal,” he says, as soon he’s served the pasta in the plates. “And no more questions.”

# SIMON

The thing is, I silenced Shepard because I thought he would ask more questions about me and Baz, and I really can’t bear that. It’s too hard for me, to talk about us with others. I never know if I should just lie and pretend everything’s alright, or if I should say what I think (that we’re in an impasse and that I really hope something good turns out to solve the situation), or if I should say what I _really_ think (that I love him and I want to let him go so that he doesn’t have to be sorry for me).

Someway all of it is always about magic, I think when my wand comes to my mind. I wish Shepard hadn’t done whatever he was doing in my room. I thought I had managed to forget about it. (It: the wand. The magic. The pain of not having it anymore.)

I miss it so much. Penny used to say (this, before she got tired and decided to shut up for good about it, because nothing would work with me) that I need to stop thinking about magic. She would say things like ‘You should go to the cinema, Simon, they’re showing some James Bond anniversary movie, I think you’d like it’, but then she would have to spell my wings off. I had a fight with her about this, once. 

If Baz and I break up, it will be because of my magic. I can feel it, it’s like a universal truth that doesn’t have to be explained. He can’t bear it anymore, either, the thought of me being a pointless, boring Normal, drowning in my pity party. I’m not enough of a man to be his boyfriend, and I’m not enough of a magician to be at his side at fancy Coven parties and at dinner with his parents. His dad already can’t see me because I’m a _bloke_. I don’t know how I managed not to think about what others thought of me, two years ago. Who gave me the confidence to shut the voice in my head up?

I think about how my life would be as a single person. Maybe I could adopt a cat or move to Scotland. I wouldn’t want to live in London without Baz: when Penny finally sets herself free and I will be stuck in this flat, incapable of moving and running business, I don’t think I will have a reason to live, anymore.

My therapist said there are plenty of reasons to live that don’t necessarily rely on other people, but mine, before being so much attached to Penny and Baz, was magic.

I wouldn’t say I had this much self-esteem, because I sucked at being a mage, too... but at least I had a purpose. I thought I knew I would become the greatest hero of our generation defying the Humdrum or I would die trying.

I think it would’ve been better if I had died. The Humdrum would’ve vanished anyway, and people would cry at my funeral and maybe even sculpt my bust and put it in my room at Watford. Baz would be mad about it, but he would’ve got on with his life, and the Old Families wouldn’t be angry at him for befriending and kissing the Mage’s heir. _The Mage would still be alive_.

(I still dream about him, sometimes. Him bringing me cookies when I’m lying in my bed, feverishly, or my once endless and powerful magic waking him up when I say **_I wish the Mage wasn’t dead_.**)

Shepard’s fork clinks when he stops eating and starts tidying his things up. He abruptly pulls me from my train of thought. ‘Is Watford far from here?’

‘Penny would kill you, if she heard about this question. I don’t think you’re supposed to know about it more than you actually know’.

‘Well, isn’t it near a real city? I could just look it up on a map. She texted me, by the way’.

He handles me his phone. Tell Simon to turn on his phone, maybe? S. B. & I have to be at Watford by 5 pm. Baz said he would pick him up at 3.30.

I check my phone. It’s dead. And I have to take a shower, before going to Watford. ‘Whatever’, I smile. You can’t come with us. You can visit the city, if you want to. I should have a map somewhere in my room, if you look for it. Just don’t get yourself into trouble with the Queen’.

‘I think I’m just going to stay here and rest. Can I watch TV? I always wondered how Britain’s Got Talent is different from the American version’, he says, fanning himself with a tissue. 

‘You can take your jacket off, you know. No one’s _that_ Puritanical in England’.

He shrugs: ‘It’s fine for me. I like my jacket’.

There must be more to it. I smile, anyway, because I don’t want to force an answer out of him. ‘Okay. I’m going to take a shower, now. Don’t mess with Penny’s room, while you’re sticking your nose—I mean it jokingly—in our life. It’s full of things I wouldn’t touch, if I were you’.

He smiles. (How can one be so enthusiastic about everything, it’s a mystery for me.) ‘I hope you have fun at Watford, in Hertfordshire’.

The thing is, he doesn’t know how much it hurts, to be going to Watford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are errors of any kind (English is not my native language), and if you enjoyed the reading. I wish you the best day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny and Agatha come back home from a very long, very tiring adventure. What does this bring them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

# PENELOPE

I text on the group chat: Are you on your way? @Simon♡ @Baz. My mum wants to know if you’re alright.

The right moment I do this, I wonder if Micah was angry at me because I saved Simon’s number with a heart. Well, I guess he was not, since he never had my phone in his hand.

Baz: not sure well get there on time. had wings problems.

I lock my phone and smile at my mother. I am so relieved to be with her, now. I am so happy to be back in England and especially to see her.

She smiles when I hug her—it is unusual, because I never do. ‘How are you, darling? Is everything okay?’

A knot ties in my throat. I hold her tight, so that she doesn’t see I’m about to cry. ‘Micah and I broke up. I’m sorry, Mum. I’m sorry that I have disappointed and made you worried. Going to America was an error’.

She must’ve heard my shaking voice. She caresses my hair and kisses my forehead, before releasing the hug. ‘Penelope, I was worried about you because I didn’t know where you were. I thought you got kidnapped or worse. Who could imagine you three were in America on a _roadtrip_?’, she says gently.

‘Agatha was kidnapped. And we did very bad things. We used prohibited magic to counterfeit money. We got into a magickal fight in public. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t call or at least leave a message. I’m sorry’.

Her eyes darken. ‘What do you mean, in public? And Basil allowed this?’

‘He started it. There were vampires, and they were drinking from humans. He said we should kill them. We did it, but at what cost! There were people with cameras!’

‘What did you tell them when they asked you about it? And how was Agatha kidnapped? Penelope, I surely was expecting some bad things, but not like this’.

I start crying and tell her everything. She starts writing everything down in her diary. ‘I will have to tell the Coven about this, Penny. We have to fix this’.

I am so chaotic at giving her a complete account, that when Simon phones me, half an hour later, I still haven’t told her about Vegas—and that’s the most important part of it.

I put him on speakerphone as he’s saying: ‘Where are you? Baz wants to leave his car at the dormitories parking place’.

‘Simon! It’s so wonderful to hear from you! Tell Basil he can park his car wherever he wants. We’re in my office, come up when you’re set’.

She left the guards open for him, when she moved into the Headmistress Office. She even published a notice on the Mages Gazette, saying she would do this because «Simon Snow is a hero to our world», and explaining the reason why the families who were still harassing him about the Mage’s death or the Humdrum should stop saying shit about him. However, Simon doesn’t read the Gazette anymore.

He steps into my mum’s office as I am telling her about the beautiful girl Micah was with, when I arrived at his house. My mum smiles at Simon, when she sees him. His wings pop out of nowhere. Baz spelled them invisible an hour ago, but he must be so tired the spell doesn’t work. 

However, my mum hugs Simon, wings included. He’s stretching them without noticing. ‘How have you been, Simon? I was so worried about you! You’ve lost weight, huh? This new haircut suits you! Is it your American souvenir?’

Simon slips his hands through his hair. My mum is right, he’s beautiful with it. I wonder if Baz has noticed.

‘Where’s Basil?’, my mum asks Simon. I guess that, apart from Fiona, she is the only adult who actually cares about him.

‘He will be here in moments, Mrs Bunce’, Simon answers. He doesn’t seem less nervous than usual, but I can tell he’s frying inside.

Baz makes his entrance five minutes later, when I am sipping a hot tea on my mum’s crystal tea table. He’s wearing a green t-shirt, with his sunglasses hanging from his collar. He glances at the studio, which used to be his mother’s, and probably judges it and my mum for what she’s done in here, but he says nothing. He’s surely learnt to be more polite, in his time at University.

‘Professor Bunce, it’s nice to see you. Hello, Snow—will you make a place for me on the sofa, please?’. He sits next to Simon and places his elbow on an armrest. His hands rest nonchalantly distant from Simon. They two are a mess.

‘That said the same from me, Basil. How are you? We were having tea. Would you like some?’

Baz smiles and thanks her, before pouring some tea in a magically-appeared cup. My mum is one of the only people who say nothing in front of his magic shows—but she silently raises an eyebrow.

My mother is very sad about what we did in America and about the situation here. I can tell by her eyes and by the fact that she’s too distracted to hide her true, constant state of suspicion mixed with affection towards Baz.

‘So, what happened to Mrs Possibelf? Is there any news?’, Simon rushes.

She tells us the entire story. Some mysterious people were seen by Prémal outside the school, the day before a descendant of the Old Families disappeared. Another student was kidnapped the day after and Mrs Possibelf vanished with her, without a trace. Other people, of various rank and power, disappeared in a short time. Two bodies, from two different families, who had never been linked together, have been found with tremendous wounds in two London suburbs.

Simon has taken the cup I’ve drunk the tea from at the right moment I’ve laid it on the tea table. He is turning it around in his hands and admiring the precious porcelain.

‘What do we do now?’, I ask.

‘We should examine the holes better’, Baz says fast. He always talks like this when he’s near Simon, because he hopes Simon won’t notice what we’re talking about. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, to keep Simon in his bell jar, pretending not to notice that there’s something strange about his (non-)magic.

‘My husband is working on it. He is observing the variations in their shape. It seems like some of them are growing into new forms’. He told me, when I was at home before. He showed me the Holes that are changing. He said he doesn’t think this is about Simon, because how can this be about him, when he has no magic anymore? He said my mum doesn’t agree with him and that it’s better if I pretend he didn’t tell me anything.

There’s silence. Simon is flexing his fingers around my cup and his wings flap in agitation. Baz glances at him and he crosses his sight. He puts the cup down, and picks up a pen from under the table. He starts scribbling things in the air, and words come out of the tip of the pen in glittery forms. ‘The Mage used to let me play with this when I was twelve’, he says in a painfully low tone.

‘Do the variations make sense?’, I interrupt. ‘Is there anything we could do to help?’. Here I am, doing exactly what I think is wrong: shutting him up when he talks about the past.

My mum replies: ‘I just want you three to be safe. Keep an eye open. I can’t think of anything we could do for now. You should just think about what’s happening and not get into trouble’.

‘I am going to go to my family’s house and see if they have noticed anything. Snow, shall we go together?’, Baz asks.

Simon has taken the cup in his hand again. With his other hand, he is scribbling the word ‘love’ in the air, but thankfully he stops before Baz can read. He nods and changes the word from ‘love’ to ‘lost’. I’m so close to crying again.

I get up and brush my skirt. ‘I need to tell you something, Mum, about Shepard, the guy we’ve met in America. I think I need your help’.

My mum first needs to scold Baz for the improper use of magic we’ve done in America. ‘Penelope still hasn’t told me everything, but I’m very disappointed. I can understand some slip-ups, but what you’ve done is way further than a slip-up, Basil. Being careful is the first thing you learn, when you start doing magic’.

‘Mrs Bunce. It was my fault’, Simon joins in the conversation. ‘I know they got some things wrong, but they did it for me. They were taking care of me. Please, don’t be so hard on them. We even went to America because they both thought it would do me good, a change of scenario. If you need to reprimand someone, I am at fault too’.

The expression on her face softens. ‘I didn’t mean to be too hard on you. We should certainly talk about this, someday, but maybe not now. You’re tired, and you surely have a lot to recover from’.

Baz gets up and helps Simon up. ‘I suggest you leave the porcelain here, with the other porcelain of Headmistress Bunce’s tea service’, he says. Simon seems surprised, like he hadn’t noticed he was holding the cup.

Baz adds: ‘I’m sorry, Professor Bunce. I’m not proud of what we’ve done, either. However, I promise you won’t need to scold me, anymore’. I wonder how his parents will take it, when they know about this. Now he’s shaking hands with my mother and saying: ‘I will phone if I know anything new. Thank you for the information. Count on me and on my family for everything’.

‘The only thing we know for sure is that we’re all on the same team. Take care of yourself, Basil’, my mother replies.

I pull Simon’s arm before they go and ask him if he needs something, before going home with Baz. He says he’s fine. I don’t believe him.

‘Well, goodbye, guys. Hear from you later to plan out tomorrow?’, I say at last.

Baz reminds me I have to check my exam results, tomorrow. I had forgotten about them. 

Baz offers me one of his rare smiles. Simon murmurs, at such low tone I hardly understand what he is saying: ‘I wish I stretched my wings, before going’.

# AGATHA

When I get home, I need some time to gather my thoughts round, before I go and meet everybody. Will my parents be happy or disappointed to see me?

When I ran away, they were really relieved I wasn’t out there at Watford anymore, risking my life. I took my cowardice from them, and I’m not ashamed of it. It saved my life, when Ebb told me to run.

I don’t know why I am here. I’ve spent the last two years running away, and now I’m here doing, what? Looking for answers?

Am I here for my parents? Am I here for Penny? Or Simon? Or for the magic?

Two weeks ago, my mom texted me and said they would be going to our seaside cottage in Cornwall for the summer. It’s four hours of drive from London. The road to Bristol was incredibly long, though, because there was work in progress on a lane. I got to Bristol at 4 pm, and Penny had already texted me ten times. She said they were going to Watford together, in the afternoon. My heart aches if I think about Watford.

I had a brief snack in Bristol, then got into my car again – I hope it doesn’t get too dirty, or I’ll have to take it to a car wash before returning it to the rental service. I miss my Volvo. I wonder what my parents did with it. Maybe they sold it. Maybe my dad’s using it now.

I get off the main road as soon as I can. I like driving through the countryside, listening to peaceful music, and letting the sun warm my hands on the steering wheel. I check my hair into the rearview mirror. I’m getting closer to the Cornish shore. It’s like I can already smell the salt sticking to my clothes. I love the sea – that’s partly why I went to California.

The sand even extends to the courtyard where I park my car. I swear if it gets lined because of a storm... I notice there are no cars, besides mine.

I feel my pockets to find the keys to the cottage. I still have a copy of the keys, because my parents never wanted them back. The sun is still high up in the sky – it sets late, this time of the year.

It’s exciting, to come back from overseas and be stepping into my house again after more than a year. I’m not even sure if I’ll recognize it.

The front door opens fluidly. I hear a clinking sound in the kitchen near the entrance.

“I’m sorry for the forks I dropped”, Helen exclaims. She is our housekeeper. Her steps echo in the corridor. “Mr. and Mrs. Wellbelove, I didn’t know you were coming back so soon... Is everything oka–,” she’s saying, but she stops when she sees me, instead. “Agatha! It’s wonderful to have you here!”

She’s smiling mouth-wide. She even hugs me. “How are you?!” and she puts emphasis on that exclamation mark. She holds me tightly, and I gently release her from the hug. I smile too, from the bottom of my heart.

“I’m fine, Helen, thank you.” She’s wearing a flowered dress. I smile even more, because it was my gift to her for her last birthday. “I have many, many things to tell you. But first, I came back for my wand. Is it here?”

Helen’s face lights up. Her eyes get brighter. She, like my parents, doesn’t like that I don’t like magic. “I’ve kept it safe. I’ll go take it.”

My mom and dad don’t know I’ve left it here. They thought it was in my luggage, when I boarded the plane. I left it to Helen because I knew she wouldn’t say anything to them, and she wouldn’t scold and overtly lecture me.

I follow her through the corridor and stairs. It doesn’t feel like my home for the holidays, anymore, this place. It’s all modern and preppy, and new photos crowd the shelves. Helen has changed her haircut.

My wand hasn’t changed a bit, though. It’s in a drawer in Helen’s room. I bet she polishes it every Sunday. I never polished my wand once in my life – my mother said it bettered the “relationship” with it and I didn’t want my relationship with my wand, or my magic, to get better.

I take it and my wrist trembles a bit. It feels smooth to the touch, thin and cool. I twist it in my hands. Not a scratch. Not a crack. Not a spot. “So my parents aren’t home?”

She shakes her head. “They’re invited to the Pitches’ house for a summer solstice party. You know, the Pitches do these things, now.” It must be some kind of strategy, developed by the Old Families for their strange plans. Whatever. My mom loves being invited to parties.

I say: “If this goes wrong, you can’t tell them. I’m telling you, this never happened.”

I take a look around and her gaze follows my every step. Helen’s room is spacious, but the windows are closed and just some rays of sun seep in from the shutters. I’m not sure I want to do this anymore. What if I get something wrong?

I think spells I’ve studied in Watford. I think technique and style, and all the correct movements. I’m not able to complete a hard one – and they’re all hard for me, especially after almost forgetting about magic for so long.

I stop thinking, close my eyes and just exhale: “ _Let there be light: and there was light._ ”

I feel something flicker in my soul. Magic is still there, in the place where it used to be. In the place I took it from, in the desert in Nevada. I’m afraid to open up my eyes. Helen slowly releases her breath, near me.

I take courage and look. Every light in the house has switched on. Helen has a smile on her mouth, and that same mouth is saying: “What a waste of magic.”

It always is for me. “What a revelation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are errors of any kind (English is not my native language), and if you enjoyed the reading. I wish you the best day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz flirt painstakingly. Shepard and Penny have a serious conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

# SIMON

Baz controls the gear stick in a very provocative way—I can’t think of any better way to define it. It helps that he has his polo shirt unbuttoned and his arms’ muscles rippling under the short sleeve. It’s like he’s some James Dean, attractive without an effort.

It helps that his hair falls free on his face and he does nothing to move it away. If I were another version of me, I would lean towards him and pull it away. Maybe I would even move it behind his ear.

Lucky for him, I am me, so we won’t be risking our lives in a car accident because of me leaning towards him. (Would he survive a car accident? Would I? Will the paramedics see my wings, when I die?)

I look at his right fingers, firmly adjusting the steering wheel as if he was born doing this.

He loves cars. It’s fascinating to see how he can name literally any vehicle without hesitation. He knows what the problem with a car is only by hearing its motor.

He loves driving. It’s a pleasure to see him do it. You can see the subtle smirk under his lips. If you have a better look, sometimes his eyes shine. I love it when he smiles like that, like it’s just our moment. I love ‘just our moment’s. 

He glances at me for an instant and I immediately look away. Haha, shame’s on me! 

‘Would you like to drive?’, he asks.

‘You mean, me?’, I answer. I find the bravery to look him into the eyes. His eyes shine at me, and I fear I might be at my melting point.

‘Don’t you like it anymore?’, I ask.

‘What?’, he returns, fastly.

Ugh, I got it all wrong.

I regret asking, now. It’s becoming embarrassing. ‘Don’t you like driving anymore? You used to do’.

He snorts. ‘No, it’s not that I don’t like it anymore! I just noticed you do too’.

‘I’m sorry’.

‘About what?’

‘I thought I was being nice to ask. I thought I noticed something. I didn’t mean to be inappropriate’.

He stops the car at the edge of the road. ‘Snow, you’re not _inappropriate_. The American Normal surely is. A circus in Buckingham Palace is. But you are not’.

I stay silent and he looks at me. Maybe he expects me to say something meaningful now, but I can’t think of anything besides the golden sun warming up his cheeks. Maybe if I caressed his hand now, he would let me...

He stretches his hand and his arm slips on my knee. ‘Come on, Snow. Would you like to drive?’

He unfastens his seat belt, he puts the handbrake on. The car door clicks. 

‘What if the police stop us? They will put me in jail for driving without a license’. Why can’t I fucking seize the moment without making everything worse?

His wand peeks out of his pocket. ‘Let me handle it, if it happens’.

I get out of the car and change seats with him. ‘It should be simple to understand how to drive on the right, when you’ve learnt how to drive on the left. You just need to look at the right rear-view mirrorʼ, he says.

The car roars under my feet. It’s a tough one, at the beginning. 

He speaks about the car and he loves it. ‘She’s a good one, Snow. You have to treat her kindly. Be gentle with that gear’.

I get better every yard this car devours. We pass some small towns, some little cities. We drive through hills and woods and I change gears with the same fluidity I kissed Baz with the first time.

Kissing Baz seems many unreachable miles away now (we even kissed in his old Manor, which is not even his anymore and we’re driving in the exact opposite direction).

We did kiss on the shore back in San Diego—when I was happy and he was tired of America.

‘Why didn’t you like America?’ I say before thinking. ‘S typical of me.

I know I want to kiss him again, but at the same time, I’m scared he will get tired of me, now. I’m afraid I’ve become the worst kisser in the world, since we haven’t kissed properly since March.

‘It was too hot. The sun burns me’.

‘Me, too’, I say.

He laughs. ‘Yeah. You had fun, flying through hills and valleys under the sun’.

I don’t know what I should ask, next. I have so many questions. I have things I want to tell him—magic, love and break-ups.

‘Is it annoying for you?’

‘What?’, he asks. He points at the speedometer: ‘Going too fast, Lewis Hamilton’.

‘Me, having wings and a tail’, I say, while I decelerate.

He stops looking at the road for a moment, and stares at me. I wish I could turn my head to see the expression painted on his face.

Then I’m happy I didn’t, because its low, measured tone almost sends me flying through the hills. ‘Simon’.

‘What?’

‘Don’t ever think about that. I’m not annoyed by you or by how you look or by who you are’.

Yeah, but what if he’s lying? I don’t ask him, because he would lie through his teeth to please me. Or maybe he would uncover his deceit—I don’t know which would hurt the most.

There’s quiet for more than five minutes. He pulls his hair back with a spell. Then he eats a mint. He taps something on his phone. He looks at me again, and asks: ‘Do you know what exit to take to get to our house?’

‘I think I remember’, I say.

He checks his sunglasses and cleans them with a cloth he has in the glove compartment. 

‘You know, I think there’s a party at the house. Mordelia told me about it, two weeks ago’.

‘Is it going to be fun?’

‘Maybe I should phone home to tell them we’re coming. No, it won’t be fun—you know how it is. People harassing Mordelia because she starts her first year, in September. People judging me because I am gay and I studying Economics’.

‘Well, are they wrong for the Economics part?’

He huffs a half-laugh. ‘You know I wanted to study Art History’, he adds.

I smile. ‘We’re not dressed for a party’.

‘We don’t have to stay for long. We can just drop by quickly and then go to sleep. This jet lag has to be good for something, right?’

‘Sure’, I say. I blink twice, to adjust my sight. The sun is on its way to set. ‘The sun is very bright, today. Do you mind?’

‘No. Listen, I wanted to tell you. Your new haircut looks good. I missed your short hair’.

‘Really?’

‘I would’ve cut it myself, one night, behind your back, if you hadn’t taken care of it by July’. He is trying to sound serious, but he fails and starts laughing.

I love his laugh.

‘You’re stunning’, he adds. I just shut up and, for once, seize the moment.

# SHEPARD

Penny came back from Watford by bus. I was watching TV and she opened the door with a heavy thud. She had grocery bags on both her hands, and looked quite discouraged by her trip to Watford. She said her mother – the Headmistress – was worried about something she wouldn’t tell me about.

Now, she is peeling potatoes. She wants to make French fries for dinner. 

“So what will you do, now?” I ask, and I would think it’s an easy one to answer. Only, it’s not.

She doesn’t reply and, for God’s sake, I would swear the question offended her. I murmur that I am sorry.

She handles me some of her potatoes to cut them. “Where are Simon and Baz spending the night, today?” I almost cut my own finger, but she doesn’t notice.

She is staring at those fries as if they’re manna. “I’m sorry,” I repeat myself.

“Me too,” she says, and she seems emptied up like something took her by the collar and scowled until all hope was gone. I didn’t think she was the kind who got discouraged.

“Why are you sorry?”

She breathes deeply, when she turns on the frying pan stove. “Shepard. Do you always have to make questions? Could you just...”

“Okay, I got it. Sorry. So you’re making fries for dinner.”

She chuckles. “You’re so American. Just a curiosity: how much have you spent in your life for dental treatment, for your teeth to be so extraordinarily fine?”

I smile proudly. “The extraordinary amount of zero dollars.”

She shoves the potatoes into the pan, then puts her hand on her heart. “How can you be alive, then!”

I burst into a laugh, and she follows. She’s cute, with the wrinkles around her eyes and all covered in the smell of fries.

She lays the table. I want to help her more, but I only hinder her, so I step back. She’s cooking something else, other than the fries, but I can’t tell what. “This place is cute, you know?”

She smiles. She lifts a stack of plates she’s putting away in a cupboard. “I decorated it myself. When we moved from Watford, Simon and I needed a place to stay. I couldn’t let him be all alone in this big city, and he and Baz had decided not to keep living together.”

“Why not? I didn’t think they had lived together. He tried to explain it, before, but then he got in a bad mood.”

“It’s complicated. Look, I don’t want to disrespect Simon’s privacy so I can’t get into detail, but he was the Mage’s Heir. When he was just a baby, he was left at an orphanage and he grew up in foster homes or children’s homes. When he started showing signs of magic, the Mage found him and made him his heir. You can’t say these things to anyone. When I erase that mark on your arm, I’m going to spell you silent.”

The fries are ready, now. She dries them with magic and she salts them.

“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to give Simon’s personal story to everybody. Who’s the Mage? Aren’t you all mages?”

She grins. “Ha! Right. He was the leader of the World of Mages – like our Prime Minister. And he was Watford’s headmaster. It was so strange, at first, with Simon. You know, magickal families don’t dump their children orphans, and powerful mages don’t usually adopt. Magic is something very private for most mages and many thought Simon was just a Normal, at first.”

“I’m sorry for him,” I say, and I mean it. She looks sorry, too.

“We still don’t know his birthday. On his birth certificate, it’s July 1st, but we never celebrated together. He was in foster care every time, and I was not allowed to contact him during the summers. We celebrated last year, though. It was fun, because he was still happy. Quite.”

“So what’s Baz’s role in this? Can I ask?”

She puts a heavy bowl of fries on the table. “Of course you can. He just pretends to be so disillusioned and intimidating, you know? You should not be scared of him, unless you’re planning to hurt Simon. He’s very protective towards him. When we started our first year, the Old Families – and Baz’s is one of them – decided to spy on the Mage’s Heir. They were hostile to the Mage, and on the verge of a cold war, and they found the perfect timing when Simon and Baz were united by the Crucible.”

“Is it some sort of spell?” I ask.

“No, it’s really a crucible, an old copper cauldron which has the power to bond you to a person for the next years you spend at Watford. Simon and Baz were roommates for almost seven years.”

She’s finally finished cooking dinner. She puts some meat in our plats and flavors both her and my portion by saying: “ ** _A dish fit for the Gods!_** ”

“So they’ve been together for so long?,” I ask. I complete with a: “Mmmh, it’s delicious! Does the spell just guess one’s taste?”

She nods, then she continues her story. “They haven’t. They hated each other, plus Simon for together with Agatha in our second year. Baz gave him a really hard time, and he ruined almost everything, but two Christmases ago they spent the holidays together and got back as a couple. I myself haven’t properly sorted out how it happened. Shortly after, Simon gave up all his magic to save us all.”

“That must be very sad for him.” So that is why he walks around like that. That is why he was so scared of his own wand. I didn’t think one could give up their magic.

“It’s worse than any of us could imagine, I think. There are no precedents. No mage has ever lost his magic, never in history. He is the first and also the most powerful of all mages that have ever walked this Earth. His magic was mind-blowing, really. No one could resist it. At first, I thought that Baz was attracted to him because of his power. Their powers used to be compatible. It happens so seldom, everybody considered it a legend – but they proved it wrong. They used to be the brightest pieces on the chessboard, two opposite kings.”

“Then, it all fell down around Simon. Baz was there with me to collect all the pieces. But they decided they needed some time separated, so I started looking for a two-people flat for Simon and me, while Baz moved into his aunt’s flat. She’s in Prague for most of the year, anyway.”

 _It all fell down around Simon._ The poor kid. He was the leader. He was the invincible one. He was the hero. But at what cost? “I’m really, really sorry about Simon.”

She lifts her eyes, gorgeously brown, heartbreakingly sad.

“Will he get better, eventually?”

She begs me to stop with the questions, but I really can’t. I’m afraid my face is filled with pity and sadness. I’m afraid she just sees a couple of indecisive eyes.

She seems not to find the right words, but in the end, she does. She whispers: “I don’t know.”

“Well, what about you? With a story like this, you must be a heroine in it.”

She stares at me for a long moment, and then looks away with a tiny laugh. “No. I mean, I took care of Simon for all these years, but I’m not a heroine. I’m the strategist. I made plans Simon didn’t follow and fought the Humdrum with him in the less important battles. But the important things are all his doing. He is the hero. He saved us all, and I will be forever grateful to him, as we all should.”

“I’m sure you’re more than that,” I say, and immediately fear I’ve said too much. 

She looks at me again with a soft gaze. “You’re a charmer. ‘S not like you will get me saying to you anything more about magic this way.”

“I don’t have an agenda. Not anymore.”

She laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, right. Of course. So, tomorrow I’ll get in contact with Agatha and ask her if we can...,” she starts talking about my magemedical visit and other things, and her eyes are shining with initiative and I am thinking about how grateful I feel to be here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are errors of any kind (English is not my native language), and if you enjoyed the reading. I wish you the best day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party and an afterparty at the Grimm-Pitches’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it!

# LADY RUTH

The Grimms’ banquet hall is elegantly decorated, with small luminous spheres hanging from the window frames and vases in the corners of the entrances, overflowing with the noblest flowers. The place sparkles with magic, in gold and copper undertones.

It is stuffed with people—Normals spelled forgetful to serve as waiters to the party and mages from many different families. I am speaking to an old friend of mine, Lady Elizabeth Michaelstow. She is showing me some photos of her grandson, and I am enjoying the time spent here.

My son, Stephen, and his wife, Charlotte, are on the terrace, getting some fresh air. The children are in the garden, playing hide and seek with the little Grimms.

‘He took his first steps last week. You should come and visit us sometimes. John is fixing our boat, and he says he will have it ready by August. We can take a nice boat trip on a summer day. I bet you look good with a summer hat, colonial style.’

I burst out laughing, but my laugh dies down in a suddenly quiet ballroom. The chamber melody, a Tchaikovsky piano sonata slowly spreads out into the dense atmosphere of the hall.

Basilton Grimm-Pitch is standing on the doorstep of the largest archway in the room, wearing an elegant suit. His hair is pulled back in a modern hairstyle.

The whole room is holding its breath. Most of us thought he had been kidnapped too, like other mages in the past two weeks. His absence was the most cumbersome at this party.

Daphne Grimm abandons her glass of champagne on a preciously draped tablecloth and quickly moves towards him.

The chatter in the room resumes. The piano is barely audible now. Daphne Grimm caresses Basilton’s cheeks, with a mixed look between a smile and severity painted on her face. He returns the smile.

Basilton raises his hand in a condescending gesture and lures Daphne out of the room. In his place, at the door, in a dark blue shirt and chinos, Simon Snow is left with his lost expression.

The Wellbeloves approach him with a wide smile on their face. ‘Hi, Simon’, is all I can hear. 

‘Ruth, are you all right?’, Elizabeth asks me. ‘You look like you just saw a ghost’.

And, for a moment, I believe I did. But he is still standing there, with his freckles on his cheeks, and his blue eyes shining bright. Simon Snow.

I look away from him for a second, just to look for Stephen in the ballroom. Stephen is speaking to a friend of his, while Charlotte is comforting my granddaughter Alice, crying in a corner. So none of them has noticed.

I see Simon Snow approaching the buffet table. ‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I don’t know, maybe I’m just tired. My mind is wandering off’.

‘Oh! Do not worry! I get like that all the time’, Elizabeth says.

‘I think I’m going to eat a sandwich and clear my mind’, I apologize and I move away.

Simon Snow is choosing among many platters of pastries. I reach out and pick one of the scones he is eyeing out with this much attention.

‘Are you enjoying the party?’, I ask him.

He jolts as if I have torn him from his thoughts. ‘I’ve just arrived’, he answers, with a gentle inflection in his voice. ‘It seems interesting, anyway’.

‘The food is tasty’, I say. His shiny, chestnut eyelashes lower towards the scones. 

‘I’m going to try the scones, and I’ll let you know, Mrs...?’, he says with a polite smile.

‘My name is Ruth Salisbury’, I say. He does not look impressed. Of course. Of course, I must not expect anything from him. It is just that he looks so familiar.

‘Nice to meet you, Lady Salisbury. My name is Simon Snow’, he introduces himself as if I do not know him. He probably does not like the spotlight, so maybe he pretends it does not exist.

He takes a bite of the scone and chews slowly. When he’s done, he appreciates it. ‘It’s really good. I’ll have to tell Baz, I mean Basil we need to get more of these from the same bakery. I absolutely adore scones’.

I laugh. I see Stephen coming near us, while Simon Snow is talking to me about Watford scones.

‘Mum, look—sorry to interrupt, Sir—Charlotte said Alice is really upset, she had a fight with the Linton girls, _again_. I think she wants to go’.

‘I’m sorry for her’, I say. ‘This is my new friend, Simon Snow’.

Stephen turns to him in dismay. ‘Oh my God, Mr Snow, I’m sorry. Please accept my apologies; I didn’t realize this was you’. He reaches out his hand to get a handshake. ‘My name is Stephen Salisbury. My wife, Charlotte, is over there, next to the piano, and my daughter, Alice, is the one with the yellow dress next to her. I really apologize for the intromission’.

Simon Snow is smiling. ‘You’re the first person from the World of Mages who speaks to me in a long time, besides my friends. Is everyone around here this afraid of me?’

Stephen looks relieved. ‘No, I can assure you I’m the only one this awkward in public. We don’t go out that much with the children’, he huffs a laugh. 

‘How old is Alice?’

‘She is seven. I really love her, but she is in a rebel phase, you know’, Stephen laughs again.

I add: ‘Theo is her younger brother and is much more reserved’.

Just as I am talking about him, Theodore, my youngest grandson, approaches us. He hugs his dad’s leg and he looks up at us, with his long lashes and bluest eyes and his crooked smile (he sucks his thumb and they cannot get him to stop). ‘Dad, I won at hide and seek!’

Stephen strokes Theo’s golden brown hair and picks him up. ‘Theodore, this is Simon Snow. Mr Snow, this is my son. I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation with my mother. We’re leaving you alone, now’, he says.

‘Oh, no! Please stay! I’m enjoying the chat. Hi, Theo, it’s so nice to meet you. It’s an honour to be introduced to a real hide and seek champion’.

‘But I hurt my hands. Can you heal it?’, Theo adds. He lifts his hands towards Simon and he examines his scratched palms.

‘These are a hero’s wounds’, Simon comments. Then he scowls. ‘I would heal it for you, but I...’

Silence falls on us. Stephen clears his throat and **_Kisses it better!_**

Theo opens his mouth, and starts asking: ‘Why didn’t you use your magic?’.

Simon Snow hesitates.

Stephen puts Theo down. ‘I’m sorry about the question, Mr Snow. We didn’t mean to be indelicate and offend you’, I apologize.

He smiles. ‘I’m not offended, don’t worry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t heal you, Theo. _Basil!_ ’, Simon Snow’s face lights up when he sees Basilton Pitch, who is gliding through the crowd around us with a glass of white wine in his hand.

‘Snow, **_there you are!_** ’. Basilton Pitch puts his pink-sleeved arm around Simon’s and introduces himself. ‘Lady and gentlemen, good evening. I hope you’re having a wonderful night’.

Stephen is saying something to him, but I’m not listening—I’m watching Simon delicately leaning on Basil. Basilton is looking at (should I say _through?_ ) Theo like he’s having a vision.

‘Have you talked to your father?’, Simon whispers.

Basilton Pitch smiles at him, then at us. They look joyful, and I wish... I think about...

‘Yes, in fact, Vera says our bedroom is ready’. His eyes darken when he looks at Simon, like he is allowed to show him how tired he is. ‘Should we go?’

Simon Snow glances at me for the last time. He says: ‘I’m really tired. I enjoyed talking to you so much, but if you don’t mind it’s time that I retired’,

Basil looks away from him for a moment. ‘Here’, he says, ‘take my keys. I’ll look for Mordelia’. He gets a smile in response.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you’, Simon turns to Theo and he waves with both his hands. Basilton eyes him with a frown, then wishes us goodnight and disappears through the chatting guests.

Simon suddenly looks dejected. ‘I’m sorry that I stayed for such a short while. We just came back from a trip to the USA. The jet lag is...’

‘Don’t worry! We hope you had fun, anyway. Good night! Good night, good night...’, I respond, but he isn’t looking at us anymore. The colours swirl around us and swallow him in a kaleidoscope of dark blues and weariness.

Stephen turns to me. ‘Mum, what were you thinking? That is _Simon Snow_ ’, he points out. I feel my heart plunge.

# SIMON

Baz’s key chink when I insert them into the lock. I’m thinking, but I can’t get my thoughts to any significant point. I am tired. 

I fall onto Baz’s bed, and it is unexpectedly soft for my aching back. I spread my invisible wings out, and I stretch them—Dr Wellbelove always recommends that I don’t keep them constrained: ‘They are your limbs. You don’t hate your arms this much, do you? Treat your wings nicely’.

It’s not that I _hate_ my wings. You could say I hate my whole body, so clumsy and misshapen. It’s humiliating, walking around with this body and these wings and also knowing what’s inside isn’t valuable, either. I turn facedown, I breathe heavily and I tuck my head under my leathery wing.

I just want to rest my eyes a bit, until Baz arrives... I think about how the evening’s gone, until now. It’s all blurred out because of my exhaustion... it feels like a fever dream.

I parked in a car-crowded courtyard, in front of Baz’s family’s spectacular lodge. When we got down the car, we heard some soft, classical music coming from the open patio doors.

‘The party’, I noted, with a low voice. Magickal crowds induce anxiety in me.

Baz squeezed my hand. ‘C’mon, we’re not staying for much’.

He then took a look at both of us and said we weren’t dressed for a party, not even in the slightest. He spelled my t-shirt in a dark blue shirt, double-spelled my wings invisible and recommended: ‘Please behave’. I did.

He knows I don’t like being here. We’ve done this before—paying visits to his family, I mean. I never know how to behave, so his father doesn’t like me. His step-mother doesn’t either. 

Unfortunately, he’s the only male Pitch heir—the only one with a strong temper, remarkable power, and the typical Pitch grin always at hand.

He says his father is happy with Daphne but he feels distant from them. He says that his brother and sisters are lovely, and that he loves them, especially Mordelia. I care about Mordelia, too. When we were in the last year at Watford, she was the only magickal being ever who didn’t give a fuck about who I was and how much magic I carried. I found it comforting.

I still do, because she really doesn’t give a fuck. She’s almost eleven, now, and still isn’t as scary as she should be if she was anything like Baz. Daphne has taught her to be polite and charming, not to touch her hair when she’s eating, and to always say please and thank you.

When we got to the front door, Vera came and opened it for us. She saw Baz and her eyes wandered elsewhere for a moment, only to return on him with respect. ‘Basilton. Mr Pitch, we weren’t waiting for you. I’m sure your parents will be happy to see you’.

She then noticed me. Baz and I have been together for almost a year and a half, but she still doesn’t know how to treat me. Baz has told her that I am family—I almost cried when he did—but she must have received other orders from other members of the family. She just smiles a smile of circumstance and greets me with a: ‘Mr Snow, welcome’.

When Baz took me back to his house, the first time, his step-mother was the first to notice something was different. Baz had told me both her and his father knew he was gay, but his father was late to acknowledge what we were. Daphne was kind to me, at first. ‘I know you’re staying with the Wellbeloves and the Bunces, for some time, but you will be very welcome here any time you want, Simon’, she said when Baz took me home for Easter. The twins started asking too many questions—about the Mage, about me and Baz, about the Humdrum—and she even shut them up before Baz.

But on the last day of the holidays, she cornered me up in the kitchen and said: ‘My husband won’t probably tell this to you, Simon. Maybe he has not even noticed what is going on. I will not repeat myself. You are a golden boy, a sweet one, Simon. However, none of us Grimms will let anything happen to Basil that could hurt him more than he has already been hurt. I have not asked, but I am sure it is the same for Miss Pitch. I hope I’ve been clear enough’.

She has been polite with me later, too, but I’ve kept my distance from her. And from Baz, too, when she’s around. I don’t want to draw their vendetta on myself.

Baz left me behind at the door. Then, I resolved that I would follow him, but I fastly took a step back when I saw the banquet hall, stuffed with people. Everyone was chatting and laughing at a low tone of voice. Tables of food were pushed to the walls, to remember me I haven’t eaten in hours.

‘Stay here!’, Vera told me. At first, I thought it was a spell, but then I remembered she’s a Normal. (A Normal like me.)

Her intimidation worked like a spell, though. I didn’t move, I just looked around. Daphne Grimm released herself from a small gathering of young, noble, stunning mages to make her way towards Baz. She cupped Baz’s cheeks with her hands. ‘Basilton Grimm-Pitch, I was so damn worried about you. Where the hell have you been?’, she whispered, with a faint voice. I wasn’t sure, but I think I saw a tear struggling to come out, but she kept her control.

‘Mother, it’s a relief being at home. Are you all right? Father? The ‘elias? Roland?’

She hugged his shoulders and moved her chocolate hair away from her forehead, to look him in the eyes. ‘They’re all right. We keep them safe. You should be much more worried about yourself. What were you thinking? Disappearing like that, and without leaving _a trace_. Your father was thinking of calling Fiona back from Prague’.

While they were walking away, I thought of how hard it must’ve been for them, when he was kidnapped by numpties at the beginning of our last year. He never talks about that, or about how his family reacted. It’s clear that Daphne loves him, and being a mother to him mustn’t be easy.

The Wellbeloves were at the party, too, and they came and said hi to me. Mrs Wellbelove asked how I am, how’s Baz, if I’ve heard about the terrible news. Mr Wellbelove rapidly checked my invisible wings and tail and asked if I drink enough, if I’ve felt tired recently, if I’ve thought about his offer of getting them off by surgery. I politely declined and dismissed them.

On the other side of the room, I finally saw Mordelia, who hugged me and said she’d missed me. I told her about America and she asked if we had brought them a souvenir. I told her Baz had it in his suitcase, and that he would give it to her as soon as he could. She said she helped to organize the party and that she chose to have scones just for me. So I went to the buffet to try them out, and a nice, old lady started talking to me. I realized I am very awkward around people, these days. 

Twenty minutes later, I saw Baz standing in the furthest side of the room, his father next to him, distinct and charming. He started striding towards us, through the flashing, golden, crackling room, and I could practically hear him greeting everyone he met. ‘Hello, Mrs Lodge, it’s so good to see you again. _Mme Blanche, vous êtes très belle avec cette robe vert là_ —he switches from British to French in a moment, it’s so fascinating—and good evening Mr Lancaster, my exams have been successful enough, thank you. I hope you’ve enjoyed the refreshments. Congratulations on your marriage, Mr and Mrs Juniper. Snow! **_There you are!_** ’

He pulled me closer with a useless waste of magic. He does that when there are many people around, because he wants to show off. He wants them to keep in mind that he’s better than any of them. I felt my muscles release when he took me by the arm. He said we should go to sleep and I gladly accepted... and I...

* * *

I feel Baz’s hand on my left wing. He’s caressing me with a tender touch. ‘Simon?’, he says, his voice low.

I open my eyes. I fell asleep unnoticing.

He looks sleepy. He’s taken a shower—he smells like his posh cosmetics. He’s put his pyjamas on and spells me **_The cat_ _’_ _s_ _pyjamas_** , too. He frees my wings.

‘I’ll take the couch, don’t worry’, he says. ‘I’m sorry that I woke you. I didn’t want you to sleep in your clothes’.

It hurts me a bit, that he wants to sleep separated. I narrow my eyes. ‘Please, take the bed. The couch is fine to me.’

He lets himself fall on the couch.

I get up and go sit next to him. I fold my legs and lean against the headrest, head on my hand. ‘We needn’t decide now, need we?’

He moderates the lights, then places his wand away— _finally_. He rolls up on the couch, too, and stares at me. He used to stare at my cross like this, when I wore it. His eyes get thinner for he is tired. ‘What did the Salisburies want from you? And who was the child? If someone’s bothering you, Snow, I told you you can ask me for...’, he starts.

‘It’s fine. They were likeable, I think. The kid’s name is Theo. He’s Lady Salisbury’s grandson’.

He makes eye contact to make sure I’m telling the truth.

‘Mr Wellbelove asked me if I want my wings and tail to be removed, again’.

‘Do you?’, he asks. He says that with no intention in his voice, like he genuinely won’t judge me for what I answer.

I answer in a low tone of voice. His parents must be around here, somewhere, and I know _for sure_ they judge me for the wings. And for the _tail_ , of course. ‘I don’t’.

He slightly nods. His fingers, slightly flexed, touch my knees. He’s one who doesn’t look at my tail or wings when he sees me. He sees me for other things (and he’s wrong about most of them).

‘S’just I am not ready to not _know_ my own body—again’, I say. This is an honest confession, and I already feel like I’ve overshared.

He nods again. ‘It’s okay, Simon. I understand, and I don’t care what they think, you know?’

I sigh. I feel the tears grouping up in my eyes. I can’t walk around alone without hurting someone or myself. I am so tired of myself. I am so tired that I can’t use magic, I can’t stay happy, I can’t love recklessly.

‘I haven’t told my father about the holes in the magickal atmosphere changing their shape. I don’t want him to think we can go back to Hampshire’, he returns the confession.

‘Why not? Would you be uncomfortable with it?’

‘Our estate there is the place of my childhood. I’ve killed so much, there. I don’t know if I feel like going back.’

He doesn’t mention our first kiss happened there. He never does, and I never do. ’So what do you want?’, I ask.

He keeps quiet for a while. ‘Is it okay if I say I don’t know?’

A tear rolls down my cheek. He sees it and springs towards me. ‘What’s happening? I don’t mean to hurt you’.

I shake my head. ‘It’s not you. It’s... I am terrified. You don’t understand...’, I start, but I shut up.

‘What? What, Snow?’, he asks. He puts his hand on my cheek and his thumb wipes the tear that’s come before. Another takes its place.

‘You won’t tell?’

His head gets closer. ‘I won’t. An Englishman’s word is his bond.’ **_An Englishman_ _’_ _s word is his bond_** is a spell, I know and he knows. He used it to take the oath of truce with me, when I told him about his mother’s Visiting, back at Watford. A century ago.

‘This morning, when we were near London, on the plane, I woke up and felt dizzy. I thought it was because of the flight, but then I felt the hunger. I felt magic’.

He’s caressing my cheek, now. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I am’.

‘You felt magic’, he exults.

It’s so scary. I feel my cells alive, and my fingers itchy. My body is heavy, my mind is heavier.

‘How’s it felt?’

I stay quiet.

He hates it when I do so. ’Simon, please, talk to me. We can work on this together’.

‘I’ve always hoped for it to come back, but it’s scary now that it _is_ coming back. You don’t know... I wanted to touch you like I did that time with the dragon. I felt like the Humdrum, in desperate search of magic. I don’t want to lose control again’.

There’s no stopping my cry. He gets even closer than before and I am holding onto his hand.

‘I don’t want to be the bad one, again. I wouldn’t know how to get it all right once more, Baz’.

He shakes his head. ‘No’.

I let him hug me. ‘No, you won’t be. We will handle this together. I promise. We _will_ get it all right, should it all go wrong. You will have to trust me, on this—I’m the world’s leading expert on getting unexpected chances back. I’ve got you back after trying to kill you multiple times, after all’. He is so sure of himself, I believe him for the moment.

He holds me tight. I feel he’s breathing regularly after a while. It’s comforting.

‘I’ve wanted you to hold me like this for years. I just didn’t notice’, I murmur. I think he is sleeping, so he doesn’t hear me. I’m just peaceful like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are errors of any kind (English is not my native language), and if you enjoyed the reading. I wish you the best day!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction using characters from the Simon Snow world, which is trademarked by author Rainbow Rowell. 
> 
> Many of the names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are created and owned by Rainbow Rowell, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Simon Snow.
> 
> The story I tell is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of the story canon.
> 
> I am grateful to Rainbow Rowell for creating such a wonderful universe and having given me the passion for such amazing characters. I look at her as an inspiration for the writing of this story.


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